The ‘universal’ that is so obvious in Joan Miró
is less so

here — I’m just making up excuses.

For the city & surrounding areas I take roads by a shore in bad translation
blues, stock blacks pitched toward numbers-to-be, no part
to fix, no concupiscence & no comeuppance.

Provisos & driving pull me into conceptual realism, along with brighter composing subjectivities.

Like you.